The one day it's NOT all about me

Yesterday was June 3rd, which in this household has meant "Wedding Day for Lisa!!" Lisa is my dear friend who suddenly became a single mom of 3, two years ago. (Her first husband was a knucklehead--as my dad would say--who thought he'd find greener pastures elsewhere. BTW, he and his "new pasture" bought a house ACROSS THE STREET from Lisa last month. See? Knucklehead. Needless to say, Lisa's house is now up for sale. Anyway...) Lisa met, dated, and married a great guy named Brett, and we're all so happy!

I met Lisa 5 years ago, when she moved here and we discovered that we have not one, but TWO shnookies the same age. She found three other moms who had shnookies the same age, and we formed a play group. We moms became very close. And while our shnooks are all older now and have moved on to other friends, we moms still do our play group--w/o the kids. So Lisa asked us all to be bridesmaids (or bridesbabes, as I made her change it to, since you're never too old to be a babe) along with...get this: ELEVEN other friends of hers. For the mathmatically challenged, that's FIFTEEN bridesmaids, er babes.


I really hate this picture of me (it'd been a long day), but since I can't in good conscience photoshop myself out, we'll all have to deal. But isn't Lisa GORGEOUS?! And, of course, this is less than half of all the b-babes. See how she had us all get black dresses and then gave us a champagne sash to wear? That was kinda fun. Another playgroup friend, Aleis (to the right of me, looking as fresh as ever, dang her), and I drove up to Bountiful together for the wedding. So there we are, two grown women walking into the temple in matching dresses. Sweeeeet.

But back to the subject at hand. Let me just flood cyberspace with a joyful shout of...
CONGRATULATIONS LISA AND BRETT!!!!

Care for something lacy?

Shnookie3 attended a birthday party yesterday, for her good friend she's known since birth (10 long years). They went to the local mall and had a treasure hunt. I was impressed--what a clever idea. I'm thinking that her mom, my friend, was indeed a smartie. Then I learned that it was being orchestrated by the girl's father and his new trophy wife. That is when I should've started asking questions.

But NOOOOOO, Mama was just happy to have one less mouth to listen to, so I sent her off for 3 hours of mall treasure-hunting. When she gets back, she tells me how they went to 4 stores--one at a time--where the clerk would hand them a clue to lead them to the next store. Okay, sounds tricky to coordinate (aren't these clerks supposed to be working??), but cool. Then she shows me one of the clues, which I don't get, so I ask her what it meant. She said "Oh, that one lead us to Victoria's Secret." I'm thinking "oh please let there be another Victoria's Secret I don't know about that sells candy." Nope. This step-mom did not think twice about marching a bunch of 10-yr-old girls all the way through Victoria's Secret. My daughter was mortified. She melts into a gooey pile if we enter a department store anywhere near the lingerie section (and those sections are pretty tame, if you KWIM). The 'mom' says to them "Oh, it's no big deal--I shop here all the time." NOT helpful information.

This mall has well over 100 stores. They pick just 4, and one of them has to be Victoria's Secret?? Am I weird to think this is wildly inappropriate?

I was telling a friend this experience today, and she was duly horrified. Then she told me about a friend who'd sent her son to an army-themed party, where the parents gave all the boys BUZZ CUTS. Can you imagine?

Hmmm...now I'm wondering if maybe at Shnookie4's cheerleader party we should've injected air into all of their heads. Tee-Hee, JK, I like cheerleaders, please don't send explosive pom-poms to kill me.

This is PERFECTLY NORMAL

All three of my tagees answered the tag quiz--thank you ladies, that was fun! Check out their answers:
Julie: http://www.andrewmjs.blogspot.com
Tiffany: http://www.idahocrabtrees.blogspot.com
Jen: http://www.jenslifeisasitcom.blogspot.com

One of Julie's fears is heights over bodies of water. I can totally relate, although my equation is any heights+children=panic. Which reminded me of the movie we saw this weekend. Which was Horton Hears a Who. Which is animated, I KNOW, but has a scene that had me TERRIFIED. I was just fine with that ledge waaaaay above who-ville where the mayor converses with Horton--didn't even really register. UNTIL he brought his little goth who-kid up there. Instantly, my heart starting palpitating, and I could not follow the plot, I could not eat my popcorn, because my brain was exploding with DANGER warnings. As if that weren't enough, he actually lifts the little gloomy guy up over the railing and dangles him over who-ville (was anyone else thinking Michael Jackson at that point?), finally settling him ON the railing. Yes--I KNOW--all still animated people and ledges, but I was rolled into a ball by now. Shnookie 2 started laughing at me, because she could hear me muttering this chant: Get him down, get him down, get him DOWN!

Movies like this should have a special rating for people like me. Maybe PT--for "fuels Parental Terror."

Tagged and Dangerous

I have been tagged by Miss Becky (http://www.huhandotherreactions.blogspot.com/). And now I am responding. I am trying to force myself not to overthink the answers, because this is, afterall, supposed to be fun, right? And fun is the best when it's spontaneous. Unless you're talking about jumping out of a plane, in which case I think some pre-planning would be in order. Such as bringing along a parachute. Not so fun without. Oh no, now I'm over-thinking fun. But it was spontaneous over-thinkage, so that makes it fun, right?

3 joys:

1. Taking the blue tape off after a newly painted room is done. DO NOT sneak in and steal that from me, because it's one thing I live for.
2. Finding a super-spectacular deal on something I adore. Like the patterned trench I got last year for $40, which I would wear every single day of the year if I could. And I would get at least one compliment every single one of those days, cuz it is SOOO cute. Even when people don't say something out loud, I know they are coveting it inside their head.
3. Thinking of and executing the perfect little act of kindness for someone. I think that joy has tripled for me since I was sick. I was amazed at the small (and big!), creative things people did for me, and I was amazed at what a difference those things made in my day.

3 fears:

1. The "C" word returning. But we don't think about that, so let's move right along...
2. Driving into a deep river and not being able to save all of my children. Honestly, that has kept me awake at night. I asked Hubby the other day what he would do if that happened to him. His answer: "I'd start by not driving into a river." I don't think he gets how the fear game works.
3. I am a bit irrational around butterlies. I got caught in a swarm of them once, and ever since I don't trust them. Especially in multiples.

3 goals:

1. Really connect with each of my children at least once a day. With the younger ones it's hard because they're always there, and so I forget to appreciate them...With the older ones it's hard cuz they're NOT there. (And they run when they see me. JK)
2. Consistent self-physical therapy for my back. In other words, I need to get to that gym and do the 3 measley weight routines the therapist told me to do. It takes literally 10 minutes and I don't even break a sweat. And yet it completely changes how I feel on a daily basis. But somehow it's just too much to ask.
3. To teach my kids--hopefully by example--that 'people are more important than things.' That's the phrase I use on them when their grandparents call to talk to them but they're in the middle of their favorite show. It's what I tell myself when a struggling friend needs me to shop with her but I'm doing laundry. See what a sterling example I am of self-sacrifice?? I'm just all about the peeps.

3 obsessions/collections:

1. I don't think I actually AM addicted to shoes, but I definitely could be if I had unlimited funds. Seriously, I think we're living in the best shoe decade in history. Flowers, polka dots, buckles...and those are just Hubby's shoes (tee-hee). I could own a flat in every color and still keep going. It's times like this I wish I were a centipede. A rich centipede.
2. Okay, I just thought of two more clothing-related obsessions, so let's just generalize and say I could single-handedly keep a few stores thriving. Again I 'could' IF the cash flow were more flowy. For now, I'm just Albertson's unwilling benefactor.
3. Ear plugs. MUST HAVE EARPLUGS. I can't sleep without them, even if I'm in a sound-proof chamber.

Random facts:

1. I can write with my toes. Right now, both you and I are wondering if I could TYPE with my toes. Hmmmm. I'll save that experiment for another day.
2. I cannot remember phone numbers, but I can go through my house and name where every item came from, including who gave it to me, if it was a gift--even my first marriage wedding gifts from complete strangers. Now isn't THAT a useful talent? Comes in so handy when you need to call your neighbor to tell them their house is on fire.
3. I cannot answer tag questions with only one sentence. Seriously.

Okay, so maybe overthinking my answers would keep me from overanswering them. Anyway, I'm gonna tag Julie in New York, my niece-in-law Tiffany, and Jen in Arizona (unless there's some reason her own sister didn't tag her, in which case she's off the hook.)

Tasteful yet Raw....okay, just Raw

We did such a yuppy thing last week--we went to an actual dog park. And--unlike the strange man wandering around there muttering--we took an actual dog with us. OUR dog, even. But wait--it gets better! We had an actual doggy date. And not with just any dog, not with just ONE dog, but with Boozer's whole local family! They had not seen each other since we picked him up and took him home, 4 months ago.

Said family consists of Boozer's mother, Tana, his uncle (Tana's brother), Chewie, and Boozer's sister (Addy). Then there are the two humans who scooped his poop for the first 3 months--the Bennetts. We'd been trying to arrange (with the humans) a get-together for weeks, and everyone was very excited. The anticipation hung in the air. Visions of tearful reunions danced in our heads. Then we realized why no one makes movies out of dog reunions. It's a mixture of inappropriate sniffing, total apathy, and familial love triangles you don't even want to think about. Seriously! Boozer's mother, Tana, really had the hots for poor Boozer and kept sneaking up on him. Then she'd crush him with her weight. I don't think she was giving him a motherly hug. I felt like I was in a bad doggy greek tragedy!

I took soooo many pictures, trying to get that perfect family photo for Booze to hang on his doggy fridge. We even tried to force them to sit together. Yeah, right. These are big dogs...they do whatever they want. But I got some cute ones, like this one of Boozer meeting his sister:

In case you can't tell, (ha-ha) Boozer is the one in front. He's redder than she is and more lean, but it's freaky how much they look alike.

Then came the sniffing portion of the event:

I don't know who that pug is or how he fits into the family (there's always one at these reunions), but he certainly dreams big. Here he is tag teaming with Addy in the "Getting to know Boozer" warm-up mixer:Okay, yes...I was the crazy perverted lady taking pictures of doggy interactions whilst the other humans discreetly looked away. But somehow a few non-sniffing photos snuck in. Here's one with the whole family, albeit their behinds (but I SWEAR I didn't do that on purpose.)

That really big one is Chewy, the uncle. He is about 165 lbs, and Boozer is expected to be at least as big as him. It's hard to even tell without a human reference point in the picture, but he is massive. Gulp.

And finally, the two merged families walking back to the car (labeled for your convenience):
(Notice how Tana still has her eye on Boozer? Shameless!)

So, now that I've published this, how long do ya reckon before Disney comes knocking on my door? The first doggy reunion drama on the big screen. I think I'm their woman.

Betcha it was Al Gore

The latest rantings of my 9-yr-old teenager:

Me: "Shnookie, you need to read."

Her: "I don't want to read. Reading is stupid. I HATE reading. I wish the person who invented reading was never born."

Exit stage left, stomping excessively.

Happy, Happy May Day. Grrr.

MAY 1, 2008... Yes, that's MAY!!

Shnookie 3's birthday is May 23rd. This morning she said "Mom, I hope it doesn't snow on my birthday." I was about to assure it wouldn't and stopped mid breath. At this rate, who knows? We may be lighting sparklers in this stuff.

I changed my mind--I WILL be sending something to Mother Nature for Christmas. Boozer will be involved. With any luck it will still be warm when it gets to her.